Memories
by phangirl132
Summary: Phan one shot where Dan looks back on the day when he lost Phil. Rated T for death, depression and violence


p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"I have been passed from doctor to doctor for two months now and have even been referred to a psychiatrist. They call me a nuisance, but they have reason to. They think that those things are the best for me, but I refuse to let some chemical concoction force a mask of healing on my face when I am falling apart inside. I had my cure for sadness, one that worked without fail, thoroughly. Only now he isn't here./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;" /p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"It had all been so surreal until then. It didn't seem so long ago that I had sat in front of my computer screen laughing along with the videos. It would have been unbelievable that soon I would meet him and it would progress so fast. We were moving into our second flat just under three years after we met. That was the day it changed. We were insanely happy that we would be living together, and in the capital too./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"After we had managed to build our bed and done our share of carrying boxes we were both tired and a little hungry. We decided to go to a shop to get some food. We dodged boxes on the way out and went to find one. When we found one Phil went straight to the while I stayed at the front. There was a beep so I turned around to see a young man coming through the door. He had a bandanna tied tightly around his head, obscuring the bottom half of his face. In his hand was a gun, raised just above waist height. We were locked in eye contact as I took in what was happening. He signaled for me to stay still and quiet, his hand rising to his face, holding a slightly wavering finger over his lips./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"My eyes darted between the isles, searching for Phil in hopes of warning him. I couldn't see him in any of the isles but I managed to catch a glimpse of a black mop of hair at the back, just above the shelves. There was no way of getting his attention. Over at the counter, the cashier walked to the door behind him, leaving the robber behind him with a small pile of notes, about to scrape them off the counter when there was an unexpected voice which startled both of /"Hey Dan, want me to get some bread too?" Phil called as he jogged to the front of the shop, completely oblivious to the situation./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"His voice caused both the robber and I to turn and look at him just as he came into view. The robber's arm sprung up as he turned to look at Phil in reaction to his voice. The realization of just what was happening became visible on his face only a fraction of a second before the bullet buried itself into Phil's chest. A flicker of fear and horror crossed his face only to be replaced by pure agony./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"The killer hesitated slightly before he scraped a few notes off the counter and ran out, the beep sounding again, only this time I didn't care. I sat beside Phil and scrambled in my pockets, grasping my phone out with shaking hands, hardly able to dial 999. The cashier came running at the sound of the shot, scattering notes he had been holding over the floor. I heard the voice at the other end of the line, only managing to stutter out 'ambulance please' before holding the phone out to the cashier. For the rest of the call I sat beside him, frantically checking everything I as told to, half numb from shock, I could do nothing more than mumble things to him while struggling to follow instructions relayed from the phone./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"Soon the ambulance lights flashed onto the walls, the high pitched wailing became almost too loud to bear. As soon as the paramedics made their way in the worked on getting him on a stretcher and into the ambulance. I knew by the speed that they managed to get him into the ambulance that it couldn't be good. I hurried on when I could, being forced onto the seat while the paramedics got to work. He disappeared behind the green uniforms until a few minutes later when one got out of the ambulance. Soon after, we were hurtling down roads, sirens wailing. Despite the noise, I heard nothing but a low muffled sound and it seemed like nothing outside even existed sat staring at my feet, trying desperately to look, even glance at him. Eventually I managed a glance; I couldn't even handle any more than that. He had been shot in the chest, in immense pain, but I still couldn't stand to look at him (I owed him that, surely). The truth is, he looked like he was just sleeping, and I knew that he might never wake up again. He never did./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"Now, the flat is too similar to what it was on that day. Boxes are still packed everywhere, opened only once to make 'the memory box'. The memory box was the one thing that the psychiatrist got me to do before I stopped going. The box sits in front of me on the table, containing very few items , the ones I found before it got too much for me. His lion sits proudly in the middle of the box, the focus of so many videos and Phil's favourite. Beside the lion is his hard drive, the one I had been vowing to plug in and look through for the past month, many times getting as far as reaching out to plug it in before returning it to its box, too scared of the memories it could bring back, all the unfinished videos and vlogs. Folded neatly at the bottom of the box is the familiar pattern of one of Phil's shirts, the one he wore the day we met. Pictures lay scattered on top of the shirt, perfectly captured pictures of so many of our happiest moments. In front of the lion lies a little gold ring, the one I had planned for so long to give to him, his engagement ring./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"Beside the box lies a small black diary, completely blank for the first half. It's first entry is on July 23rd, a mess of scribbles with rip marks from the pen pressing to hard on the page. From that day on, a cross marks each day, going on until October 18th. One more cross to go. It's three years today since Phil wore the shirt, and since 'not all the blood was rushing to my head'. My pen feels heavy in my hand as it slashes through the last box, October 19th. The doctors ought to be happy, I'm finally taking those damn pills of theirs./p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;" /p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;" /p  
p style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.44444465637207px; line-height: 21.77777862548828px;"emPlease forgive me. Don't let anybody think that this is their fault. This is entirely my decision. I can not live with this any choices if I live are either to allow some doctor to lock away these feelings, Keep them there but out of sight, or I could attempt to deal with this like I have been doing. I can not live with this any longer and I refuse to be a prisoner in my own head. This way, I either meet Phil again and get rid of this grief and guilt, or I meet nothingness where there would be no grief or guilt to be felt. I will spare you the grief of watching me go mad. I am sorry to whoever finds this, you shouldn't have to see me like that. Don't forget, I love you all./embr /emGoodbye./em/p 


End file.
